Encounter In Haven
by Beregond5
Summary: Dalish Elf Origin. When Theron became a Grey Warden, he had to live with the guilt of the loss of his best friend. Fate, however, decides to play a nasty game on him... Implied Zevran/Male Dalish Elf pairing.
1. Tamlen

_A/n: Based on a particular encounter that only the Dalish Elf has. The gamers who played that origin probably know what I'm talking about. _

* * *

Theron supposed they had been fortunate. Though meant to be masters of stealth, shrieks were creatures that breathed quite loudly, making a characteristic hissing sound that, in this case, it had saved his and his companions' lives. Though most of them had lain down for the night, they had instantly sprung to their feet and managed to fight off the surprise attack, killing many of the monsters before forcing them into retreat. Even so, Theron had never expected that the worst surprise was saved for last, in the form of a dark-skinned, human-like monstrosity.

"You… lethalin…"

Theron froze, eyes widening tenfold. "Mercy of the Gods! It can't be!" he breathed out, aghast. "Tamlen?"

"Don't come near me! Stay away!"

Then the ghoul was gone, running off into the darkness of the night. Yet Theron chased after him, as fast as his feet could carry him, forgetting about the camp and his companions in that moment. He had failed his best friend once; if he failed him again, he wouldn't be able to forgive himself a second time.

* * *

"_You want to leave so soon? Aren't you interested in the mirror?" Tamlen asked._

"_We can come back later for it. I want to see what else we can discover," Theron replied, standing at the threshold of the large wooden door. The young warrior had always believed that he knew the forest like the back of his hand. Yet there was now this underground city in this strange cave, filled with ancient artifacts that most probably dated from a time that Elves had been immortal, their knowledge surpassing all the other races'. The things he and Tamlen could uncover could lead to a breakthrough in his people's struggle to regain that knowledge; it was too good an opportunity to pass up. _

"_I want to look at it now," Tamlen said. "Don't you think it strange that of all the things we've found, the mirror is the only one that _isn't_ broken? Wait! Did you see that?"_

"_See what?" Theron asked, frowning._

"_Something moved in the mirror. There it is again!" Tamlen stepped closer to the mirror, his hand reaching for it._

"_Tamlen!" The young warrior tried to pull his friend away from the mirror but it was too late. The moment Tamlen's fingertips touched the silvery surface, a great force threw them both across the room and then Theron knew nothing more.

* * *

_

_Theron looked incredulously at the keeper and then at the human – this… Grey Warden - standing next to her. When he had gone to talk to them, he had hoped for some answers about his condition. For he could feel a sense of sickness in the pit of his stomach even now, even though he had finally got back on his feet after Marethari had been using all of her abilities to cure him in the last three days; ever since the human had found him unconscious in the forest and brought him back to the Dalish camp, in fact. Instead of answers though, he received even worse news. _

"_I know not what dark power held you, da'len, but it nearly bled the life out of you," Marethari said softly. "If Duncan hadn't found you when he did, I fear you would have been beyond help."_

"_And it's still not enough. Your keeper only managed to postpone the inevitable," Duncan added solemnly. "The only thing that can save you now is joining the Grey Wardens. It's the only way you can find a cure to the taint that is poisoning you."_

"_But what about Tamlen? We can't just give up on him! He's still out there somewhere!" Theron cried._

"_Da'len, calm down," Marethari said gently._

"_I understand your concerns, but let me be perfectly clear," Duncan said firmly. "The only reason you've survived so far is through your own willpower and your keeper's magic. All this time, your friend remained beyond reach in the woods, unaided. Tamlen has no chance." He boldly reached Theron's shoulder, squeezing it gently. "Trust me when I say he's gone."_

_Theron opened his knives to object, to say that he didn't care, that he had to find Tamlen. And yet a part of him realized the futility of the matter and urged him to calm down and listen to reason. In the end, he lowered his gaze in defeat and said the very words that would seal his fate forever. _

"_Very well. I'll come with you."

* * *

_

The hideous form crouched against a rock, averting his gaze and making Theron's heart wrench violently. This… creature… had once been his best friend, his comrade. They had spent their childhood playing, exploring and making dreams about becoming great warriors and defeat the bad humans who had made their clan suffer. And now…

"Tamlen…"

"Don't… look at me!" the ghoul rasped painfully, eyes devoid of their familiar blue colour. "I'm… sick…"

"I know," Theron murmured. He took another step forward, holding up both his hands in an appeasing manner. "But maybe I can help you, Tamlen. Don't be afraid."

"No help!" Tamlen snarled, baring his teeth... his fangs. "No… help for me." His hands clenched into fists, talon-like nails digging into his palms and drawing blood. "It… calls to me. He sings to me! I can't stop it!"

Theron knelt in front of him even as Tamlen cried out in pain, dropping his knives to the ground so he could caress the tainted face in comfort. "Shh… It's all right…"

The ghoul lowered his yellow gaze. "Don't want… to hurt you, lethalin," he whispered. "Please… stop me…"

"I have to try and heal you." He had found his cure amid the Grey Wardens, maybe now he could help Tamlen in turn.

"Too far. You cannot help me," Tamlen said softly, as if aware what was Theron thinking. He looked up at him, his eyes reflecting his sorrow and regret. "I'm… so sorry, lethalin. Never wanted this…"

"Tamlen…"

The words died in Theron's lips as sharp claws suddenly grabbed him by the throat, squeezing the life out of him without mercy. The fangs were bared once more, and whatever had been left of Tamlen's soul vanished behind feral eyes filled with hatred.

"Now die."

* * *

"How unnerving!" Leliana said, looking at the corpses of the shrieks.

Zevran, on the other hand, didn't seem all that unnerved as he clicked his tongue in disapproval. "No trap? No ambush? Some assassins."

"Fortifications must be built around the camp. This should never have happened," Sten declared, crossing his arms.

But Alistair barely listened to everything that was being said, for he had noticed something that was more than just a little alarming. Doing his best not to go into full-fledged panicking mode, he walked up to Wynne, who was busy casting protective magic around the camp.

"Wynne? Have you seen Theron?"

The woman frowned in thought at the odd question. "No, I can't say I have. I thought he was with you."

"He was, but then I lost track of him in battle." He looked around, trying to get a glimpse of the Dalish. Where could he possibly be?

"You looking for your fellow Grey Warden?"

Alistair turned around, surprised to see Bodahn standing there. In all honesty, Alistair had expected the merchant to flee after the shrieks' attack. It was true that both he and his son always tailed the party, often doing business with Theron for supplies and such. That, however, hardly made either dwarf a warrior, and tonight's particular experience had been horrifying, to say the least; Alistair wouldn't have hold it against them if they _had_ gone.

"I am. Have you seen him?"

"The last I saw him, he was chasing after one of those monsters down that way," Bodahn said, pointing in the particular direction. "Be careful, though. I'm not sure what you'll find."

Alistair ignored the grim warning and unsheathed his sword. "Wynne, look after the others; I'll be right back."

He didn't even stay to hear the woman's reply. He simply hurried down the direction Bodahn had shown him, trying to find any sign of the missing elf.

"Theron!"

There was no answer; just the leaves rustling gently in the spring night breeze.

"Theron!"

Again there was nothing. Truly worried now, Alistair continued down the path, his sword still in hand. If Theron was in trouble, he'd need all the help he could get. Provided… nothing worse had happened to him…

Alistair shook his head at once, refusing to think like that. He would find Theron; he _had _to.

"Theron! Come on, answer me!"

Theron didn't answer, nor was it necessary anymore. In that moment, Alistair caught sight of a kneeling form from the corner of his eyes. More importantly, he recognized the reddish tint of Theron's armour, and so he knew that he had finally found the elf.

"Thank the Maker," the royal-blooded man said with a sigh of relief, walking up to him. "Are you…?"

He had meant to ask, 'Are you injured?', but he never finished his sentence. Even under the meager light of the stars, he noticed that Theron had his head bowed, seeming to cradle something… or someone. Whatever Theron was holding was humanoid in shape; grotesquely so, but humanoid nonetheless… and quite dead. Alistair supposed Theron managed to kill it by slashing its throat. The small knife that had been used for the deed was on the ground, covered in the black ooze that had been the creature's blood. What made things more disturbing, however, were the bruises that had started forming on Theron's neck, undeniable signs that the Dalish had escaped strangulation by the skin of his teeth. And yet there he was, hugging the body as if… as if that creature had actually meant something to him.

"Who… was that?" Alistair asked the elf softly.

Finally, Theron answered, his voice pained and hoarse. "His name was Tamlen."

"Tamlen…?" Wait, Alistair was sure he had heard that name before, but from where? As he gazed at the ghoul's leather armour, though, he saw the characteristic Dalish patterns on it, and everything fell into place. "I see… He was the one who was with you when you…"

Theron nodded, strands of black hair hiding his eyes as he refused to lift his gaze.

"I'm so sorry," Alistair said sincerely, feeling for his fellow Grey Warden. "That is what happens when the taint is left unchecked."

"I wanted to help him," Theron whispered, the sound of a sob interlacing the words.

"You did help him," Alistair said at once, kneeling next to Theron so he could place an arm across the elf's shoulders in comfort. "It's… It's better for him to have it end. It _was _a mercy."

Theron shook under the man's touch, grief coursing through his body. "Duncan knew, didn't he?"

Alistair sighed, rubbing Theron's back to ease the tremours away. "I think so. He certainly knew that that would happen to you. That was why he helped you join the Grey Wardens."

"Then why didn't he tell me after I became one?" Theron snapped, finally looking up. His eyes swam in tears, and yet justified anger flashed through them as he glared at the human. "I could have looked for him! I could have saved him! I could have done _some_thing!"

"Hey, hey, hey! Easy!" Alistair's arms wrapped around Theron, but the elf struggled to get away, hands clenching into fists and hitting anything they could. The man winced as two pretty powerful punches landed on his side; nevertheless he took the beating without a sound escaping his lips. He knew how much it hurt. He had been there after Duncan's death, and Theron had stood by him even though he didn't have to; they barely knew each other back then, almost a year ago. Now, it was time for Alistair to stand by the young elf now that he was needed the most.

A final fist landed weakly on Alistair's chest, and Theron grew still, the struggle ceasing altogether. Even so, Alistair didn't let him go. He was aware that the elf didn't have much strength left in him even to stand upright on his own.

"He had probably meant to tell you once the battle in Ostagar was over," he said quietly. "But I suppose the darkspawn made sure he never had the chance."

He felt Theron nodding against his chest and then gently pushing himself away from Alistair's embrace. The man winced at the haggard-looking face and the lines of anguish that aged the young elf more than his actual years and he couldn't help but squeeze Theron's shoulder in reassurance. He was there and it was alright.

The message got through, and Theron looked up trustingly at Alistair once more. "Before he died, Tamlen said that the archdemon sang to him," he said softly. "Do you think the archdemon knew about my connection to him?"

Alistair pursed his lips momentarily. The thought had crossed his mind as well, but he hadn't been sure whether he should have voiced it at a time like this. Still, he knew he couldn't lie to Theron, so he nodded.

"Remember, being a Grey Warden means that we can sense the archdemon's thoughts, but he can also sense ours. He must have 'read' your past in your mind and so decided to use it to his advantage."

Theron nodded his understanding once more. "Sounds like we should deal with him and fast."

"We're already working on that," Alistair said, smiling a bit. "He'll never know what hit him."

"For the Grey Wardens," Theron said, managing a weak smile at last.

"And Ferelden and everyone we know and love," Alistair completed, and he got back on his feet. "Well, now that that's settled, it's time we headed back."

"Actually, I'd rather I stayed a little while longer," Theron said softly.

"Of course," Alistair said, nodding his understanding. "I'll tell the others that you're just scouting the area."

"Thanks. I appreciate it," the elf said before looking back at Alistair with a guilty look. "And sorry for the bruises."

"Bruises? What bruises? I didn't feel a thing," Alistair replied with a grin, waving his hand dismissively. As he turned on his heel, however, he winced in a comical manner. "Well… All right… maybe I felt that first punch. Maker, you have a mean right hand! Who said elves were lightweights? Because I certainly didn't!"

It had the desired effect. Theron chuckled softly, the sorrow ebbing significantly as he watched Alistair go. The royal-blooded man smiled to himself and, considering his work done, he walked back to the camp to make arrangements for the night. He had to make sure no one would notice Theron's return to the camp. He knew the elf would rather avoid questioning after he had properly mourned and said goodbyes to Tamlen – and his old life.

**To Be Concluded**...

**A/n:** I never thought that a game would actually make me feel shocked and saddened about a character that he was barely there half an hour, but... there it is.


	2. The Closing Of A Chapter

In his life as an assassin, Zevran had the habit of studying people. It gave him the opportunity to learn some things about them that he wouldn't have been able to know otherwise, and perhaps exploit it afterwards in order to get what he wanted. He had done that while he was in Antiva, and he had done it when he had picked a certain Grey Warden as a target. After hearing rumours of a young elf who led a small band of people dedicated in assisting those in need, acting in the name of the Grey Wardens, he had also figured out just how to lure them in his trap. One distress call and then it would have been plain sailing from there.

Or so he had thought. Rumours had never warned Zevran that his target fought with the swiftness of a hawk and the ferocity of a bear. Indeed, Zevran hadn't even picked up a rumour that the Grey Warden was also a very handsome man, but that was humans for you; always omitting the most important details. That powerful body and determined look in his eyes, their green accentuated by his ebony-black hair was simply to die for…

But he strayed. Yes, the Grey Warden was handsome, royally tough to kill and magnanimous enough to spare his would-be assassin, but… some habits simply died hard. Zevran still found himself studying people. Namely, the people he now considered companions in a wish he understood their character and what drove them to follow this young elf in a campaign against the darkspawn. And, in time, Zevran had managed to reach his conclusions about each and every one of them. Leliana wanted to redeem herself; Morrigan wanted something not quite so innocent and just needed the opportune moment to get it; Wynne took it upon herself to be the Warden's mentor in an attempt to make something with her life, and Sten wanted to see for his _Arishok_ the military prowess of Ferelden. There was also Beorn, but, since he was a dog and a very loyal one to his master at that, he didn't count in order for Zevran to make his case. Everyone wanted to gain something else from the Warden besides fighting against the Blight, himself included. Everyone, that is, except for Alistair. _He _was of the stuff that the noble knights of fairy tales are made of: heroic, virtuous, ready to fight off villainy with his proverbial sword of justice…

… and a terrible liar. Indeed, when the royal-blooded man came back to the camp and declared that Theron had gone scouting ahead, Zevran didn't believe it for a second. Voicing his suspicions in front of everyone else have hardly helped matters, however, so he decided to do what everybody else would: keep silent and wait for Theron's return so they could speak to him in private. Yes, Alistair had given the order that they should all have some rest while the night was still young, but, then again, Alistair was hardly their group leader, was he? So, Zevran was hardly surprised when he didn't hear the familiar gentle snoring or calm, relaxed breathing of his companions sleeping when they 'retired'. They were on their guard, expecting to hear Theron's footsteps coming their way.

Zevran chuckled softly to himself. Unlike the others, _he _didn't intend to lose any beauty sleep while waiting. There was no telling when Theron would come back, after all and, by then, exhaustion would have probably done its work. No. He was a light sleeper, and he knew that all he had to do was hear the right kind of sound that would have him awake in seconds, ready to have his talk with the Grey Warden. All he had to do was close his eyes and let a particular someone to do the hard work for him.

* * *

Zevran wasn't quite sure how long he had managed to sleep, nor was it important. What was important was that he had picked up Beorn's gentle whine, the usual sign that he had spotted his master – the sound the Antivan had been waiting for - so it was time to see what the Grey Warden had been up to. Barely making a sound, he propped himself on his elbow and pulled one of the flaps of his tent aside just enough to peek outside.

Sure enough, there was the hound, wagging his tail, and then Zevran's keen eyes caught sight of the very elf he had been looking for. But Zevran also noticed something that he didn't like at all. For the Grey Warden was a far cry from the brave, proud warrior the Antivan had grown accustomed to… and felt attracted to. His features carried a melancholic, lonely expression, and his body posture seemed to scream ache and fatigue. Beorn must have picked up the change in his master's aura as well, because he didn't jump around him happily as Zevran had expected. He simply sat on his hind legs, a mix of puzzlement and concern visible in his intelligent eyes. Theron watched him for several moments and then slowly, almost hesitantly, knelt in front of the dog and wrapped his arms around the thick neck.

Zevran had wanted to believe that he had seen so many things in his life that there was nothing left to discomfit him. Yet now, watching the Grey Warden, the pillar of this band and Ferelden's sole hope against the Blight, so broken and so defeated, was a sight that he had never been prepared to see. What could have done that to his fellow elf? Or was Theron always like that whenever he felt no one was watching? Zevran hoped that that wasn't the case…

"I have to go for a while, boy," the young elf said softly in the moment, cutting into Zevran's train of thought.

Beorn whined, cocking his head.

"Don't worry; I'll be back before dawn. I just have to do something," Theron replied.

Beorn made a motion to stand up, but Theron instantly shook his head.

"No, you can't come," he said quietly. "You have to look after the others for me."

Beorn whined again, his eyes saddened.

"I'll be alright," Theron said once more in reassurance and he gently rubbed Beorn behind his ears. "You'll be a good boy, won't you?"

Beorn panted softly and licked the elf's face, making the elf smile.

"Thank you." With that, he patted his hound gently on the head, and then turned on his heel, heading towards the dark veil of the night.

Zevran supposed that that was his time to act, so he quickly got onto his feet, pushing the flaps aside.

"Ah! There you are!" he said, feigning surprise.

Theron stopped on his tracks, but he didn't look back at Zevran; he probably didn't want to reveal his wincing expression. "My apologies. I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't. Nature doesn't call only the Dalish, you know," Zevran lied smoothly, keeping his tone in his usual lilt of joviality. "How about we see who aims the farthest, hm?"

"I'm not…" Theron stopped, probably aware that he was about to make a slip of the tongue. "It's fine; I'll give you some privacy."

"Mm, that's quite generous of you," Zevran noted. "Just how far will you go to give me my privacy, I wonder."

The teasing tone must have ebbed quite audibly, for Theron tensed and stared back at Zevran for many long moments. Zevran, on the other hand, looked back at him quite seriously, telling the Grey Warden in his own way that any further secrecy was futile.

Finally, Theron heaved a sigh, lowering his gaze. "It has nothing to do with you or the others. It's just something I have to do."

"And I would have respected that, my Grey Warden, for two things. One, it's obvious you're going back to the Village of Haven, a place where we're no longer welcome, and two, you're going to head there wearing an outfit that can be heard clanking a mile away," Zevran pointed out, crossing his arms. "So, if it's a stealth mission you want to accomplish, you might want me to tag along."

"I'm not off to kill anyone," Theron said.

"I never claimed you were," Zevran said. "If you still want something done without losing your head, though, you should probably see the real experts at work. So, what is it you want stolen? Coins? Weapons? Perhaps some gemstones?"

Theron shook his head. "Just go back to sleep, Zevran," he said, walking away.

Zevran, however, wouldn't have it. "Now here's a funny story, tell me if you've heard it," he said, catching up with him and walking beside him. "There is this Grey Warden who always seems willing to help witches to do away with their powerful shape-shifting mothers, mages to track down apprentices long thought to be dead, royalties to find their sisters, bards to escape their past and qunaris to find their missing blades; and he does all that because he managed to earn their trust and so they decided to confide in him. And yet, when it came the Grey Warden's turn to talk about his problems, he chose to remain silent. What say you to that?"

Theron paused, sighing. "So if I tell you that I need a shovel in order to bury a ghoul who used to be my best friend, what will change?"

Ah, so that was the problem. Zevran had heard of Tamlen before; his fellow elf had spoken of him before. In fact, he had wondered if there could have been something between them, a thought that made Zevran feel rather… dismayed. Even so, he smiled in Theron's direction.

"Probably nothing. I'll still come and help you," he answered. "Especially since you're still wearing that ridiculous outfit which wakes up the dead every time you walk, my silly Grey Warden," he added with a soft chuckle.

Theron sighed wryly. "Point taken."

"Relax, my Grey Warden, I'm only teasing," Zevran said, clapping the other elf on the shoulder. "Let's go. And, who knows, we might actually find some treasure along the way. If we do, half of it is yours."

"No, you're welcome to it. Although I think Leliana has already looted every chest there was."

"Ah… Shame," Zevran replied in a feigned crestfallen tone. "Now come, I still have my old Antivan armour; you can use it for our little… expedition."

"Right," Theron said softly, and he followed Zevran back to his tent. As soon as he was in the Antivan's old attire, the two elves slipped out of camp quietly, moving swiftly towards the isolated village. There was no moon up in the night sky and they had to tread carefully, mindful of their step; but at least they stayed out of the guards' sight. It didn't take them long to reach the outskirts of Haven, eyes darting in every direction so they wouldn't come across any unpleasant surprises.

"So… See any shovels anywhere? Because I don't," Zevran said.

"While I was exploring, I came across a general store. We should find everything we need there."

"And that store is…?"

"Over there," Theron said, pointing straight ahead. "We'll have to pick the lock, though."

"Good thing I'm here, then," Zevran said with a grin, and he walked out of their hiding place.

"Zevran…!"

Zevran smiled to himself and continued moving, his motions light and smooth, barely disrupting the quiet of the night. This was _his _element now.

He looked around once more; then boldly stepped towards the threshold. The lock wasn't too complicated, and so Zevran managed to pick it in just a matter of moments. The door creaked open gently, and he motioned Theron to come and join him.

"You could have been spotted," the Dalish pointed out as he sneaked his way up to Zevran.

"But I haven't. I told you before, I'm a very lucky man, my Grey Warden," Zevran replied with a grin and closed the door behind them; there was no need to arouse any suspicion by leaving it open. "Now… one shovel coming right up."

* * *

Zevran had to admit that fate had shown her kind face tonight. They hadn't found just one shovel, but _two,_ and, though the Antivan couldn't care less about hard labour, he decided that in this case he could make an exception. So, when the Grey Warden went to see to his grim task of a gravedigger, Zevran followed obediently, carrying the shovel. It was still dark by the time that walked away, and the trees looked the same to the elven assassin. Not to the Grey Warden, though. His Dalish background gave him an infallible sense of direction, making him find his way even in the thickest forest. So, Zevran trusted him to guide them swiftly and surely to the place where Tamlen had been left, awaiting his burial.

Zevran's first reaction upon seeing the body was to wince, the deformed figure revolting him to no end. He barely even looked at it as he started digging, and he found himself telling Theron about another one of his adventures as an assassin in the hopes of putting their minds off the current situation. Though Theron listened and commented in all the right places, a sign that he was indeed listening, Zevran still noticed the discreet motion of a hand wiping an occasional tear off a pair of green eyes. In those moments, a sense of protectiveness surged through Zevran and he just wanted to say something, _anything_, that would make the Grey Warden smile. Except he didn't know what.

"I think that's deep enough," Theron's quiet voice sounded in that moment, snapping the Antivan out of his musings.

Zevran regarded the hole and he deemed that Theron had a point. "You want me to help you with the body?"

"No, I can do it." With that, Theron knelt beside Tamlen, scooping his hands underneath him in order to lift him.

Zevran placed a hand on the Grey Warden's shoulder before he even realized what he was doing.

"I _am _here. I might as well help, no?" And though the sight of the ghoul made him feel ill at ease, he gripped him by the legs, intending to share the load with the Grey Warden.

Theron was visibly surprised at that, but he didn't deny the offer a second time. He finally grabbed Tamlen by the arms and thus both elves placed him inside his grave. Neither of them spoke or exchanged so much as a glance as they threw the dug earth back into the hole, covering the body. It was after their task was over, while Theron was kneeling by the grave with a hand resting on the small mound of earth, that Zevran decided it was time to leave his fellow elf be. But, just as he turned on his heel, Theron's voice broke the silence.

"Zevran?"

"Yes?" Zevran asked, frowning; he wasn't sure what the Grey Warden wanted to say.

Theron looked over his shoulder, a bittersweet smile on his lips.

"Thank you. I appreciate it."

"It was the least I could do." Surprisingly, Zevran meant it. The Grey Warden had done so much for all of them, without asking anything in return. It was only fair that someone did something for the Grey Warden for a change. That's how Zevran reasoned matters in his mind, ignoring the set of feelings that tried to make their presence known in his heart and tell him that what he felt about Theron went deeper than admiration or awe. "Shall we head back now? It's almost dawn."

Theron looked up in the sky, finally noticing the faint grey colour of pre-dawn that started merging with the dark blue of the night.

"Yes, I suppose we should," he said, quietly getting back on his feet. He cast one last glance at the grave in a final goodbye, and then he caught up with Zevran, following him to the camp. Even so, there was obviously something else in his mind too, for when they reached the camp and were ready to part ways, he gripped Zevran gently by the arm, stopping him.

"Yes?" Zevran asked, blinking.

His mild surprise only became even bigger when Theron dug out of his pack a pair of leather boots. And it wasn't just _any _kind of leather. It was…

"Antivan leather!" he exclaimed softly. "But how…?"

"They were in the store," Theron said, smiling a bit. "Go on. Wear them."

"I… Thank you," Zevran said, taking the boots in his hands almost reverently. He had always wanted a pair so badly and now… he actually had one. He gazed upon them, fingers feeling the supple material and he couldn't help but grin broadly.

"You know, if you could find us some wine and a pair of lovely whores, I would feel just like home…" His voice trailed off when he realized upon looking up that Theron wasn't there, however. The Grey Warden had slipped away quietly, without so much as expecting any thanks from the assassin.

Zevran remained looking in the direction he guessed Theron had gone, torn between going after him and retiring to his tent. In the end, the latter option prevailed, and Zevran spent the last hour before daybreak wondering what could this gift possibly mean.

His question was answered a few days later, when Theron walked up to him with a very shy look in his eyes and an endearing blush, a question of his own on his lips.

"Would you like to join me in my tent?"

And Zevran nodded, not intending to pass up that kind of offer.

**The End**


End file.
